Lead Us Not Into Temptation
by latelydreaming
Summary: Neither of them is as perfect as they pretend to be. And maybe it's better that way. (AU, CielSeba, implied CielLizzie, genderbender, Fem!Seba, OOC!Seba, lemons, PWP, religious themes, probable inaccuracies regarding Catholic theology, and pretty much every sin in The Book.)


_**Lead Us Not Into Temptation**_

_latelydreaming_

**Author's Note:** I feel kind of like the end of this fic was a bit rushed, and maybe like it fell apart somewhere, so feedback/critiquing on that would appreciated. In addition, this is my first (and likely to be only) lemon, so feedback/critiquing on _that_ would also be appreciated.

**Warnings: **Let's see… AU, CielSeba, implied CielLizzie, genderbender, Fem!Seba, OOC!Seba, lemons, PWP, religious themes, probable inaccuracies regarding Catholic theology, and pretty much every sin in The Book. I think that's about it.

* * *

"Sebastine." His voice tore through the silence of the room, splitting it like a veil and wrapping about the figure perched upon the bed at the far wall. As he stepped across the threshold, the object of his attention raised a finger in response, signaling for his patience as she marked her page and shut the Bible in her hands.

Her auburn gaze traced across the carpet, found the toes of his dark sneakers, followed up his feet, calves, knees, thighs–lingered at his hips–and again from his stomach to his thin waist, frail breast, pale neck, delicate jaw, pursed lips, flushed cheeks, wide, _wide_ blue eyes–and froze.

"Ciel." Head cocked, lips twitching, she asked, "Weren't you supposed to be having dinner with Elizabeth…?"

"I wasn't hungry," he answered tersely.

She snorted. "Ciel, you only come to me when you _are_ hungry. If I remember correctly, my sole purpose in life is to–"

The crimson of his cheeks grew even deeper, and he swiftly interjected, "Shut up. Lift the skirt up."

"Ah. So I _do_ remember correctly."

"Sebastine," he hissed, "_Skirt. Up._"

"Always so demanding," she sighed even as she complied with his order.

Minutes later, the Bible had toppled onto the floor, its open pages bent upon the carpet, her habit lay strewn across the bed, and her gentle hands smoothed at mussed skirts as her visitor fell limply upon the sheets, panted breaths gradually lengthening into a reasonable facsimile of calm.

"Better now?" she murmured, pressing at a particularly stubborn set of wrinkles and only half-noticing the answering nod. "You really _should_ come here more often, you know," she continued distractedly, "You always have such a stick up your arse when you return after too long."

A brow arched in reply. "Sebastine, you live in a _convent_. It would be highly improper for me to visit too often or stay too long."

"Nonsense," she scoffed, "No one would expect anything untoward from _you_ of all people."

He scowled at the reminder and supplied a swift rebuttal, "Just as no one would think anything untoward of you, _Sister Sebastine_?"

Her face split in a delighted but brittle smile and she answered with a sound "Exactly!" Again she attempted to straighten her skirts, yet still her efforts proved to be in vain. With a huff, she quit and chose to shed her dress instead. "Here; Ciel, do it again," she instructed, "Make me enjoy it this time."

He groaned. "Can't I rest first?"

His plea was met with a snicker. "A young thing like you? You should have more energy than some old hag."

His answering stare was decidedly unamused. "Sebastine. You're nineteen. _Only_ nineteen. Stop being melodramatic."

She watched him for a moment before softly responding, "But at times I feel so much older."

Ciel eyed the woman pensively and, with a sigh, acquiesced. Rolling to hands and knees, neck stretching, his lips met her own, violent, demanding, desperate. A gasp and she yielded to the furious tongue twining around hers, the teeth nipping at her jaw, neck, shoulder, the fingers tapping at her ribs, sliding up, up, touching, teasing, the knee at her core pressing harder, harder, _harder_–"Oh, _please_; Ciel!"–and immediately his slender digits reversed their course, trailing down, brushing her hips as his hungry mouth followed, tasting its way across her stomach, the jut of her pelvis, along the inside of the joint linking thigh to hip, moving to sample the juncture between her spread legs with the barest of kisses, the lightest of tastes.

"_Cieeeeel_," she implored, "Don't be–_Ngh!_–cruel…. You this mean to–_Ah! Ah, Ciel!_–to Lizzie_eeeeeee_?!" she broke with a squeal as two fingers plunged into her and began to explore.

"You talk too much," he hummed against her wet skin, his cool breath sending a wash of chills against her heated flesh.

"So you… are?" she insisted, jealousy and amusement leaking into her strained voice.

"Lizzie's too young for this sort of thing," he growled.

"She's the same age as–_Mmmh!_–as you."

He slid a third finger in, shoved deeper, and placed his lips against her ear, whispering, "If you are still capable of holding a conversation, then I am obviously not pressing you hard enough, am I?"

Her retort was disrupted as he renewed his ferocity, and her thoughts devolved into blinding bliss. The following delay in conversation was considerably longer (and much more pleasurable) than that of moments ago.

"I shall have to perform penance for this later," Sebastine sighed as she collapsed bare and sweaty upon the bed.

Ciel scowled. "If you regret it so much, then why surrender to carnal desires to begin with?" His voice quieted as he added, "If you hate it so much, then why continue to be with one such as I?"

Sebastine flinched at the vulnerability in his tone and hurried to reassure him. "I didn't mean it like that," she promised. "Ciel, no matter how great the sin, if it is for you, then I will hold no regrets when I commit it. Even if you are my ruin. I would _never_ resent anything you ask of me."

"Then why bother with confession and atonement at all?" Ciel huffed, and Sebastine smiled at his petulance.

"Call it afterlife insurance. I want to guarantee my soul's safety."

"What, you think God will let you into Heaven with what you've done?"

"Probably not. But there is always purgatory or, failing that, limbo."

Jerking upwards, Ciel asked in agitation, "Do you honestly believe this drivel?"

"Yes," Sebastine answered immediately. She hesitated, then added, "I pray for you too, you know."

He snorted. "Aren't innocents supposed to be blameless in the eyes of the Lord? Should you even worry?"

"Ciel, you haven't been innocent for a long time," Sebastine replied, rolling her eyes.

Ciel's eyes widened with feigned fear. "You mean my soul is in danger? Will I burn in the fires of Hell when I die?" Then his wide eyes slid shut and his lips curled up into a smirk. "Dearest, darling Sebastine, sainted Sister Sebastine, can you save even _my_ damned soul?"

Sebastine's lips twitched as she fought a smile. "I don't think my prayers alone could protect you. Perhaps you should petition God yourself?"

"Well then," Ciel responded crawling on top of his lover to hover over her, "However should I pray? I believe The Lord's Prayer–" he broke off, pressing his lips to Sebastine's–"was Jesus' recommendation, but, well–" another kiss, deeper this time–"I'm not sure such a prayer is suited to me. Then again–" the third kiss left Sebastine gasping for breath–"King David created several excellent prayers–" he paused to nip Sebastine's lower lip–"lamenting his affair with Bathsheba, which are remarkably ideal for my circumstances. Unfortunately–" his tongue brushed against Sebastine's as she squirmed under his next kiss–"I've never been one to grovel. I suppose I could always–_Mm!_ Stop that," he murmured in protest as her hands wandered, urging him to kiss her, touch her more, "–always invent my own prayer, but I'm afraid I have little confidence in my ability–_Ngh,_ _Sebastine_, if you keep that up, then we're going another round–_Sebastine_!" he demanded, reacting as she squeezed the organ she held in response to his warning. Immediately he forgot restraint and bucked against her hand, silently begging for more. His mouth claimed hers, relentlessly driving down, forcing her to surrender to him. Her hands moved, dragging him down, drawing him to her spread legs, her leaking core, and he, in turn, acquiesced to her unspoken request, driving in and drowning in her heat. Yet even as he took her, reason returned to him and he remembered their interrupted conversation.

"So… as you can see, I'm–_ugh!_–at a loss for an adequate prayer. Have you… any ideas_ssss_?" he asked, his words ending with a hiss as Sebastine writhed against him.

With Ciel inside of her, screwing her in such blatant disregard to God's laws and her vows, the jest suddenly wasn't funny anymore. "Don't–_Ah!_–joke about these things, _Cieeell_. You shouldn't cross the… the Lord!"

"Cross?" he breathed, pulling out of Sebastine, rolling, tugging, encouraging her to ride him. "Why that's… positively brilliant…. Jesus' prayer on the… cross."

"Ciel!" she admonished, only to be ignored.

"We poor, foolish humans… so oblivious and–_Nnh!_–cruel and mistaken…. Good Shepherd, we have strayed from the path of–_Hah!_–righteousness. My God, my God, do not forsake me! _Father_, forgive us; we _know not_ what we _do_!"

Sebastine gave a breathy, frightened giggle and clutched tighter to her lover as she once again slammed onto him. "I'm surprised the Almighty doesn't–_Mmh!_–rain fire and brimstone down upon your… head, Ciel."

His teeth flashed as he offered her a benign smile in return (and she knew not to accept it, for this was _Ciel_ and anything involving him and gentleness heralded a lie). "Now don't you worry your pretty–_Oh!_–little head about that, love. I doubt he has… the time for such petty–_Ngh!_–concerns."

And, because she did not want to think on the matter anymore, she conceded and dropped the subject. He, in turn, seized her hips and bucked, aiming at–and hitting–a particularly sensitive cluster of nerves, effectively erasing the topic from her memory for the time being. A few more thrusts in the same general area set her to uncontrollable orgasming, and the subsequent contraction of her muscles–the friction, the heat–led to his own moaning release shortly after.

Flushed and panting, he pressed his lips to hers once more in reminder–_You're mine._–and curled into his lover, legs twining with her own, sweaty palms smoothing her matted hair, fiery blue eyes locked onto her own distant stare as she slowly descended from the euphoric high she'd been riding. When her eyes were finally focused again, he mused, "You're right. I don't come see you anywhere near often enough. Not if we're going to screw like rabbits every time I visit."

Still not entirely coherent, Sebastine murmured a vague "Hmm" in response and rolled away from the uncomfortable heat his body produced. Noticing his scowl over her desertion, she offered a hand in an attempt at appeasement and excused herself with a tired, "Too hot to cuddle, Ciel."

Begrudgingly, he accepted her reasoning and replied, "Don't know where we find the energy for all this anyway."

She smiled through her exhaustion, answering, "How nice it is to be young and in love."

"Yes, yes," he agreed with disinterest. They lay in silence a long while, allowing their racing hearts to gradually calm. Eventually Ciel remembered the world outside Sebastine and himself, and he, with a groan, left the bed to paw through the pile of discarded clothes in search of his cell phone. He sighed as he noticed the quantity of missed calls and texts, grimaced, dialed a number, and waited as the phone rang. Sebastine, however, continued to laze about on the bed, distractedly running fingers through her hair to untangle it as she attempted to appear unconcerned.

"Lizzie? Yes, hello; this is–" he winced, pulling the phone away from his ear as a high squeal was emitted from the speakers, "Mm-hmm, I'm glad to hear from you, too…. You're right; I should've called sooner…. Sorry, it was turned off. Listen, I wanted to apologize about cancelling…. Yes, I'm feeling much better now…. Thank you, but you didn't need to…. Well of course I appreciate your concern, but it really wasn't…. Oh, nothing much, just a lot of stress and a little trouble breathing–" his eyes flickered to Sebastine–"Asthma. Of course…. It's gone now…. Yes, Lizzie, I'm sure…. Mm-hmm…. Yes…. _Yes_, Lizzie…. All right, I'll do that next time…. Anyway, I'm sorry for missing dinner…. I know, my birthday…. Tomorrow. That sounds great…. How much earlier?" An eyebrow twitched at her reply. "I can come, but why? Were you wanting to go somewhere first…? Oh." He glanced to Sebastine again. " I suppose we could visit her…. No, not unwilling, just…. I thought _we_ could…. You're right, I'm being rude…. I'm sure she'll be thrilled–_just friggin ecstatic_," he muttered at a lower volume, "Nothing, never mind…. Yes, that's fine…. Hm…. Mm-hmm…. All right…. All right…. Yes, love you too…. Goodbye."

With a flick of his wrist, the phone snapped shut, and the corners of his mouth edged downwards. Sebastine, still sprawled unashamedly across the bed, shifted slightly and murmured a strained, "So?"

He grabbed his clothes and began to redress with his back to her, intentionally avoiding her gaze. "Lizzie, in all of her _vast_ knowledge, has noticed my preoccupation on our dates of late, and has decided that I need to get my mind off things," he informed darkly. "To do this, we simply _must_ come visit you tomorrow as it's been so long since I've seen you and I am obviously missing you greatly. Therefore, we will be coming to meet you tomorrow afternoon before dinner. Oh, and I must not tell you. It shall be such a _delightful_ surprise."

Sebastine hissed at the news and glared in accusation. "No. This place is sacred. She cannot come here."

His fingers hesitated on the buttons of his shirt before he returned to his task and rolled his eyes. "Sebastine, Lizzie is not a curse or a devil. She may enter if she wishes. And I hardly think this room could be considered sacred after what we've done in it."

"This room is not sacred to God; it is sacred to me, and I will not let her soil it. She is a blight and a curse on my life and far too meddlesome for her own good. I refuse to share more than I must with her."

Ciel eyed her for a long moment, gauging her conviction, before he nodded and acquiesced. "Very well. I will see what I can do. Perhaps you could come visit us at home." Noting her continued glare, he swiftly amended, "Or perhaps I could distract her for a bit."

Though she was less than mollified, Sebastine did not reject this idea. Instead, she glanced over his fully-clothed form and dismissed him with a cold, "I don't believe I'm willing to forgive you yet, Ciel. Leave now, please."

He considered her request temporarily and sighed. "Now I remember. My visits are rare because we always leave each other with a fight." Rather than turning away, he strode swiftly up to his lover, leaned over her nude body, and took her lips with a fierce kiss. One hand cupped her face, the other trailed across her skin, stealing one last touch… and just as swiftly he was gone, at the open door, prepared to exit. "Sebastine," he began, "I know this is horrible and you deserve better. I know being with me means you must reject everything you believe in. I don't understand why you stay with me when things could be so much easier for you if you left. But nevertheless you do. I don't take that for granted. And you are important to me. You are, after all, the only woman I will ever love."

The door had almost completely closed behind him when Sebastine was finally able to find her voice. "Ciel!" she called, and though he did not return to the room, she could see the door being held just slightly open, and she knew he was still listening. "I–I love you too! You know I do, even if it hurts. I'm sorry. I love you. I'm sorry. I'm _sorry_. I know I've ruined everything. I was the one who started this; I shouldn't blame you for it." She heard the faintest noise from behind the door, a soft gasp perhaps, or a choked sob, she wasn't sure, but all the same she gave a rueful smile at the sound. "I never did congratulate you, did I? You act like an adult most of the time, so I forget you're a child in some ways. Still, you're growing up so fast. Hard to believe…. We act too cavalier about these things." Her musing was interrupted by the slamming of a door and the patter of feet fleeing down the hall. Tears stung in her eyes and she bit the inside of her cheek to distract herself. "Happy thirteenth birthday, little brother," she whispered as the bitter blood filled her mouth. "I love you."


End file.
